


I Spoke To The Devil In Ohio

by emotionlessmarcher



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Crime, Jealousy, M/M, Mental Instability, Murder, Obsession, Obsessive Behavior, One-Sided Attraction, One-Sided Relationship, Self-Harm, Stalking, Suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-22 01:28:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12470424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emotionlessmarcher/pseuds/emotionlessmarcher
Summary: This is a story about obsession





	1. Nervous

Tyler //

“Good morning Josh.” I say quietly from behind the counter waiting to see his weekly finds.

Tennyson.

Last week was Walt Whitman.

“Hi, Tyler.” His voice cuts into my skin like knives, he smiles showing me his perfect white teeth. He comes in the bookshop every Monday and buys different kinds of poetry. 

These brief seconds of dialog make me aware that this man is in front of me, that he’s real and does exist in real life and not just in my head.

Josh is a little less than six feet tall; his hair is in short black-brown curls, clean-shaven and pushing 30.

His large eyes are the color of coffee with a hint of green. His hair perfectly styled .

He's absolutely perfect.

“The Lotos Eaters is one of my favorites.” I say trying not to make a fool of myself. It’s one of the poems by Tennyson I’ve actually read. 

“I’ll have to read it then.” A cigarette clings on the back of his ear “I hope it’s in here.” He smiles taking back his black heavy card. 

“You want anything from the coffee shop?” He asks as he finishes signing the receipt. 

“No thank you.” I can feel the red creeping in my cheeks. 

“I’ll buy you something eventually Tyler.” 

Let’s hope so. 

// 

I can feel his eyes on me. Every week is the same. I ring people up, put away books and he just sits there reading and drinking his coffee, stealing glances at me. 

I don’t see why, nothing is more boring then the uniform I’m forced to wear, a black collared shirt with khaki pants and black Vans that are falling apart. It's something that should mostly not catch the eye of someone as beautiful as Joshua Dun.

He’s stunning; Dark black jeans sit on his hips, a long sleeve gray sweater protects him from the thin November snow, Heavy but light looking boots sung his feet.

Remembering that I have to do my job, I gather the rejected books that need to be returned to their shelves. 

“You have such a pretty blush Tyler.” Josh says as I turn a corner.

The heavy books I have in my arms go crashing into Josh like bricks popping open the coffee cup in his hands, the dark liquid bounced flawlessly out of the thin recyclable cup.

My eyes caught his, the steady brown - green have now darkened to an almost back color. 

“Shit, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Josh laughed.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t see you.” I dropped the books i had in my arms and ran to the counter to grab a stack of paper towels.

Little brown spots are beginning to seep into his soft looking sweater.

His eyes are back to the brown-green color a little more on the lighter side “No, don’t apologies, it was my fault, I’m sorry I made a mess.” he said wiping off the few remaining drops of forgotten black coffee off the books in his hands.

I get to the floor and start trying to mop up the black liquid. “Let me.” Josh’s warm hand makes contact with mine for a split second setting my skin on fire. He goes still, frozen, like the blood in my veins, tightening his grip on the washcloth he cleans up the invisible spots apologizing profusely.

A lady nearby impatiently gives a small clearing of her throat “Sir, I need help finding a book.”

“Yes ma’am, I’ll be right with you.” 

Josh hands me the now sticky cloth back, smiling wide with amusement. “I’ll see you around Tyler.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nervous by The Neighbourhood


	2. You Get Me So High

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw throughout

Josh //

I sit waiting patiently for 4 o’clock. 

His light brown bag sits on his shoulder, he zips up the heavy light grey jacket and slips on black gloves starting his half-mile walk home. 

The snow is lightly falling. 

I should give him a ride home. 

I don’t. I get out of my car and follow behind with a slow pace. It’s not hard to stay unnoticed. One being that Tyler works in the center of the small suburb just outside of Columbus. Disappearing behind the older building and the never moving cars isn’t that difficult. 

Tyler never looks behind him. His eyes always in front, his mind caught in the trance of the music going into his eardrums.

It’s a game. 

Tyler Robert Joseph is playing a game. 

Its been going on for a one year, six months, twelve days and three weeks now. 

I follow him, watch him and study him. I have every facial feature memorized. The way his voice get a little higher when he gets flushed, the way he hides his teeth when he smiles, the little freckles that litter the bridge of his nose. 

He used to make me nervous, like a teenager in love. 

That’s what it is. 

Love 

I’ve loved Tyler Robert Joseph since the first time I saw him. Driving to work one gloomy Tuesday, I ironically decided to stop for a coffee at a local bookstore when he walked in and asked for an application. 

I sipped on my black coffee and watched as he confidently filled out the small boxes. He wore black skinny jeans with a loose red sweater and a pair of clean black Vans. Not in my whole 28 years had I ever seen a man more beautiful then Tyler Joseph. 

My life changed as soon as the little bell on the door caught my attention, He was mine. 

It was also the first day I followed him home, forgetting about work entirely. 

Getting to know Tyler on the outside was easy. He’s always forgetting to get his letters from the mailbox, which makes it easy for me to look through. He always answers the phone in a seductive tone when I call and hang up and maybe pretending to set up doctors appointments got me a little more information then I should know. 

Getting to touch him is hard. I have to be creative sometimes. 

Like bumping into him at the bookstore or touching his hand when me gives me my bankcard back. 

Today he touched my fingers to “Clean” up the little dots left of coffee that he accidentally spilled. He wanted it, to feel my skin, to feel what belongs to him. 

All signs that he loves me too. 

When he goes to sleep tonight I’m going to slip another letter in his door. I can’t wait to see him when he opens it, the way his blush brightens his face is beautiful. I can’t wait until the day where we can open the mail together in a home that we own, with a dog and maybe a kid. 

He wants it just as bad, why else would his cheeks turn so pink. 

Tyler crushes the show with a light skip in his small steps. His walking is more of a movement to the music in the white plastic headphones. His slender fingers settling on a new song, his iPhone slips into a pocket of his heavy jacket and taps his fingers lightly on his thighs. 

Silent I love you’s taps to me.

Little signs like that show its just a matter of time before we can stop playing these fucking Tyler games and be together at last. 

The walk is short. Tyler lives in a modest three-bedroom house that was given to him by his grandmother that wanted more adventure in her life and moved to Florida. 

He quickly takes the steps that lead to the front door, pushing some snow off the porch with his feet. He pulls a set of keys from his bag and opens the white door with the two perfect windows in the front. He kicks off the remaining snow from his now wet boots before he enters the house. His socks are fuzzy and light blue. 

Across the street is a small forest full of untouched trees perfect for my late night viewings. 

I can see into his kitchen window; his curtains are open the snow is piling up on the windowsill. Tyler grabs an already opened bottle of water and last night’s pizza. He walks to the drawn curtains, looking out for just a moment answering his phone and slips them closed. 

Blind. He blinded me. 

A flash of red courses through my body. I fucking hate that he does this shit! Fucking testing me! Tyler knows how to keep me awake until the early mornings. 

Who the fuck is he talking to? 

He’s trying to make me jealous. 

I’ll kill whomever he’s talking too. I fucking will! 

It’s time to let him know I’m tired of these fucking Tyler games. I need to let him know that he won’t get rid of me. I’m here forever. 

It’s time to let him know he belongs to me and ONLY me. 

I wait until the lights in the front of the cozy home go out. His too big home looks asleep, but I know better. He’s in his bedroom; he has been reading Misery by Stephen King for the last week. He keeps getting distracted by late night TV and video games. 

I cross the street as quickly as I can without the neighbors seeing me. As I get closer to his door I can feel the energy of him pulling me in. I can smell the sweetness of his lotion and the burring of firewood. Nothing but a thin door between me and the love of my life. I could kick it in run up to his room (on the second story, third room on the left) and kiss his beautiful dark pink lips. “Soon.” I tell myself out load “we’ll be together soon.” I pull the thin piece of paper from my pocket and slide it in-between the door jam. 

It read words that are too true. ‘Soon my love, we’ll be together.’

My heart is pounding as I walk away from his porch, leaving him for the night is always my weakness. He’s alone in that big house; I should be there with him, keeping him warm and safe. I always feel a sense of comfort knowing that he’ll be waking up to my letters. I always want to stay and watch him open it but I like this idea more. 

// 

The rest of the week goes by with a blink. I go to the coffee shop and stop in to get a bullshit book that will sit on my floor forever, follow Tyler home, call him on my burner, go to sleep thinking about him, wake up thinking about him, touch myself thinking about him, go to work thinking about him and again follow him home. 

I watch Tyler sleep a few more times though the window again. Sometimes getting there in the mornings so I can see him wake up. 

I leave him three more letters, two in one day. 

I watched him open them. The last one made him cry. 

I sent him flowers too, not roses he hates those. I sent him Camellias, pink and white ones. 

//

I’m growing tired. I want more of him. I need more of him. 

Tyler 

Tyler 

Tyler 

My heart and soul. 

My life’s only meaning. 

My feelings are consuming me. He’s all I want, I breath him, he’s wrapped inside my head. 

I can’t even see myself in the mirror anymore. Its all him

Him 

Him

Him 

Everything is Tyler. 

Tyler is imbedded in me. 

Old Josh is gone; Tyler’s Josh is here. I look the same but so different. Brown - green eyes, crooked once broken nose, my hair is getting too long.

I make my way to the bathroom, my hands gripping the sleek marble sink. I look into the large mirror. 

“Tyler, Tyler, Tyler.” I say to myself. I open the large medicine cabinet and reach for the small razor that sits in what once was an Altoid box. 

“Tyler, Tyler, Tyler.” I say again louder this time. 

“Tyler, Tyler, Tyler.” I scream as I carve the letter “T” into my chest, right above my heart. 

“You belong here my love, Always.” 

I slip my shirt back on and lace up my boots. I’m going to pay Tyler a visit again. I need him. 

//

I drive the short and familiar rout back to his home. I park on the street over and walk to hide behind my usual tree. People are still out walking their dogs. Kids are still playing in the yard and fuck I hope I don’t stand out but in a nice neighborhood like this I don’t. 

I get there just in time to see him step on the front porch. He stretches his long legs and slips on his headphones. 

He’s going jogging. 

He does this on his days off, which are usually on Wednesdays. 

When the coast is clear I hurry my way to his front door. My heart pounds, not because of getting caught no, Tyler likes to jog to his friends Ashley’s house, were they drink wine and watch re runs of Dr. Phil. Then when it gets too late Ashley will drive him home. My heart is pounding because I’m finally going to get a real dose of Tyler. I’m finally going to be completely engrossed in him. I’ll have a good solid two to three hours to myself. 

I’m face to face with the white door with two windows again only this time I try the golden brass knob. 

Locked. 

Like it should be, he should always be careful of strangers trying to brake in. 

I walk my way to the large back yard. 

“Stupid boy.” I give a small laugh. His back window to the laundry room is open. 

Taking off the screen, with a little jump I’m in Tyler’s house. The feeling is overwhelming, the sent is embedding in my clothes, its seeping in my skin. This is the first time I’m inside his given home, I’ve tried before but the attempts were ended in failures. 

The lights are off but the sun is still barely gleaming outside leaving an early morning type feel. 

I make my way down the small hallway straight to the stairs and straight into his large bedroom. 

Tyler’s king sized bed is unmade; the blanket is white with little green cactus printed on them. Next to his bed is a white and gold nightstand with Misery closed and bookmarked to chapter 11. A picture of him and a pretty girl with blue hair, Ashley and an unopened bottle of Evian water. Clothes are all over the place, on the floor, on the piano, his work stuff sits on the foot of his messy bed. 

On the white dresser there are more pictures of him and his family, a brush, a couple of unopened bills and perfume. 

Tyler has a bathroom in his room that I was unaware of; it matches his white and gold interior of the bedroom. Little cactus line the white shower curtain, the rug is a light green matching the cactuses. On the sleek counter his toothbrush is charging on its little station, its pink. Deodorant is the active kind and his lotion is peaches with cream and of course more clothes are scattered on the white tiled floor. 

Stepping back out, I peek in the other two rooms. All keeping the theme of the bedroom. I make my way down the white wooden stairs into the living room. It’s cozy the fire just smothered out, more clothes in a basket, some folded on the glass coffee table over looking the flat screen hanging on the white brick wall. 

But the photos and the knick-knacks no longer entertain me. 

On the Kitchen bar is a photo sitting in a gold-rimmed frame of Tyler and some fucking asshole. His arm is over my boys shoulder, both are smiling looking like they have known each other for a while, their hands are intertwined. I’ve never seen this fucker before. He has short dark hair and a big fucking forehead. 

I’ve watched Tyler every fucking day and I’ve never seen that fuck near him. So who the fuck is he? 

I smash the glass frame on the stool making the fine glass fly all over the kitchen floor. “That motherfucker!” I screamed ripping the photo out of the frame tearing the picture in half. 

I want to wait for him to get back! Sit on his fucking white perfect couch, confront him and scream at him! Ask Tyler who the fuck that is and why the fuck he had his hands on him like that! 

Tyler is MINE! 

I make my way back up the stairs kicking some of his cloths in the process. I go into his closet and take the red sweater I first saw him in. 

He belongs to me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You Get Me So High by The Neighbourhood


End file.
